Poems by Meher Manda

poison berries?



orange diffused at the foot of the plastic chair. durable. timeless. 




summer — monsoon — winter — ma’s dupatta a frayed relic — a hand latches onto 

a piece of history — orange



a canvas of leaf green. its promise: orange



a child limp on the stillness of a photograph. 

her memory: orange



before the mother that was

before the mother that was

before the mother that was 

their bloodline: orange




the tree promises life. timeless. enduring. its poison: orange






a desire for the tactile, the firm grasp of time within one’s fingers is only 

a photograph — suspended, 



a nail running through its arrested composition.

this tear: orange




off-camera, metal scrapes the remnants of the yard, on-camera it offers: orange






the artist feeds on a photograph for more

say what this memory of one’s own forgone story? orange. 


when are the poison berries? 



a house into which                 a woman come through           a child interrupted


walls kiss other walls     young once, a flying dupatta   caught in a photo


and become home                   freeze-framed in memory               unsmiling, an aberration


manufacturing isolation         tightly congealed in loose scraps   testified to story


birthing a throughline       while the body grows           enduring


one kernel leafs a new leaf, disappears a memory, learn 


to another true       turns obsolete, in belonging   to call this evidence


algaed familia       her knowledge, in high esteem use to prove


kinship with tools a self, waning           time, its slippery hold


a robust engineering restricted to recollection   a mutating grasp


stockpile for the future                    to remember again and again      in image.

what are the poison berries? 


what can grow can one day turn invasive. 


what suspends like a drop of orange dew from the green-lit sky is only a fruit. 


what looks like a fruit, reads like a fruit, smells like a fruit, is a fruit. 


[in so far as you can eat it, in so far as I can eat it]


what fruit eaten can kill a child is a not-fruit. call it berry. suffix it with poison


[don’t eat it, don’t eat it, don’t eat it]


what are words that a cat can’t read but a song in an alien tongue. 


what is song but a tongue set to music. 


what is fruit of the songbird but a poison to your tongue.


what is a songbird but an alien tongue dancing. 


what is an alien tongue but the unnamable grip of memory.


what is memory but a reminder that before you, there was a you, and even before a less you-er you but you nonetheless. 


what is orange but a color so beautiful you drip it on your tongue. 


what is beautiful will kill you. call it berry. suffix it with poison. 


read it again and again. disregard its instructions, your best defenses.


bite the soft flesh of orange, let it bleed all over the archive. 


what is an archive but a collection of truths left unsaid.


where are the poison berries? 

 


in family, native


to Mexico, to South America, to the Caribbean


invading room, taking up space


naturalized in places


in memory unspooling a flurry


produced in tight clusters


in likeness, in the possibility of before


a desirable addition to gardens


in past regurgitated as a photograph


attracting butterflies and hummingbirds


in the harsh erosion of cement border


feeding songbirds without ill-effect


in chair, left unoccupied 


tolerating light shade, though desiring full sun


in burrowed corners of home


grows as an annual shrub


in living, leaving, returning


a spreading, sweeping, evergreen shrub


in the hallowed hallways of time


blooming summer to fall


in contested records

standing upright, erect


in stories turned gooey from oversharing


drooping blue to violet flowers

why are the poison berries?

lacerate your own life with the needle of time and selective memory. expose its innards into a burst of fragmented optics. arrange in order of linearity. find the uncomfortable missing. scope out sadness in the camera’s finitude. realize your own mind is manipulating truth which is story which is true which is also a little bit false. the storyteller in you is itching to close gaps. abandon chronology. arrange in order of movement. let leaf sprout a creeping vine. find its incessant growing a lovely metaphor to living. obsess over this representation. scourge the growth into shape. choke on the impossibility of this undertaking. discern that an analogy once made cannot be dismissed. struggle to breathe in this endless overlay of image. wisen up. recuse yourself from this dance of taming wilderness. embrace a third, living possibility. renounce order or method or form. understand no single thing can be the whole thing. allow truth to be whatever you want it to be. shape from past a meaning of your own making. stretch the elastic into a capsule. sit on it and fly away. chew yourself, inside out. lay it out to dry. hibernate.